


Principles

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Times, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone from Blair's childhood brings painful memories and problems when he comes to town.<br/>This story is a sequel to Propositions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Principles

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains child molestation, but it is not 

## Principles

by PB

graphically depicted. 

Thanks so much to Walter and Yvonne for the betas. 

This story takes place after Propositions. You don't need to have read it to understand this story, but I did introduce the character of Cyn, and set up the Jim/Blair pairing in it. 

* * *

Principles  
by P.B. 

Russ Talbot was having trouble sleeping. Ever since he had announced his intention to give up his seat in the House and run for his home state's highest political office, he had been receiving disturbing death threats. He knew he was a shoe-in for the Governor's mansion -- as long as he lived to take up residence. Now someone had gone past the threatening stage and actually made an attempt on his life. If he hadn't dropped his address book and bent to retrieve it, the sniper's bullet would have spelled the end of his political aspirations. He would have become a sad footnote in the history of politics in the Pacific Northwest. 

As he got up from his bed -- no point in staying if he wasn't going to sleep \-- he considered what lay ahead of him in the immediate future. His itinerary placed him in Cascade for the next four days. He had two speeches and three fund-raisers to attend. Oh, how he hated those boring dinners. He didn't like having to cozy up to a lot of wealthy idiots to try and glean a few pieces of silver for the campaign expenditures, but he knew he had to do it. He'd have to bite the bullet and smile through the inexorable boredom that would accompany all of his conversations with the provincials. 

At least Talbot was supposed to have good protection here. He had been told that this Detective James Ellison was probably the best cop in the entire state. He was an ex-military hero with an incredibly good case solution rate, especially in the last couple of years. Maybe, as head of the security detail assigned to protect Talbot, this Ellison character could manage to stave off the assassin's attempts for the duration of the candidate's visit. Russ was also thinking of trying to hire Ellison. If the man was as good as he had been touted, he'd make a valuable addition to the security staff. Talbot didn't have any doubts about his own ability to lure the detective away from his current position. He firmly believed that every man had a price, and buying public servants like Ellison had proved very easy in the past. 

* * *

Jim was less than thrilled with the idea of baby-sitting a political hack, but he was a man who understood his responsibilities. Simon was counting on him, and he couldn't let his friend and superior officer down. He just hated the idea of getting involved with a politician. In the past, Jim had found details like this very difficult. The candidate usually didn't want to take any security advice offered, and even seemed hell-bent on doing things that put him in more danger than necessary. The sooner this guy left town, the better, as far as Jim Ellison was concerned. 

For his part, Captain Simon Banks had no hesitation about whom to assign this case. Jim Ellison was his best man -- period. That's what the Mayor had asked for, so that's what Simon was going to provide. He knew his detective wasn't happy about the detail, but he also knew Jim would do his best. With any luck, that's all it would take. None of them entertained any thoughts about apprehending the assassin. That could be left to the FBI. They just wanted to get Russ Talbot in and out of their fair city with a beating heart and all his limbs still attached. In about fifteen minutes, they were meeting with the man who would, in all likelihood, become their next governor, and they were going to tell him how they intended to keep him alive and intact. 

* * *

"Come on, Sandburg, we only have a few minutes," barked Jim at his young partner. Ellison hadn't had time to fill the young anthropologist in on the meeting they were attending, but he knew the kid would be able to wing it. He didn't like taking Blair into situations where he could be in danger, but he needed his Guide more during those times than any other. When the need arose, he took the young man with him and inwardly vowed he would always protect him. He knew that his need to safeguard Sandburg shouldn't take priority over his duty to the congressman, but Blair was everything to Jim. The big detective knew that if anything happened to his beautiful young friend and guide, Jim Ellison would cease to exist in this world. He would put _himself_ in the way of a bullet if necessary, but he wouldn't sacrifice Sandburg for anything or anyone. 

"Jim, who is this bigwig we're goin' to meet, anyway?" the grad student asked, pulling Jim out of his reverie. Talbot wasn't the only politician in town at the moment, and Blair had no idea which one they were assigned to protect. In truth, he had been so overworked lately, between school commitments and his responsibilities as Jim's partner, he had barely even looked to see who was running for what. 

"Oh, it's -- " Jim was cut off as the elevator doors opened onto the penthouse. As Simon saw Jim and Blair emerge, he motioned for the two men to step over and be introduced. As the subject of their meeting turned to face them, Sandburg's blood immediately ran cold. 

The sentinel's head snapped around to check on his partner when he detected the sharp and erratic rise in the young man's heart rate and breathing. What Jim saw scared him. The young anthropology student's face had turned ghost-white, and his eyes held the look of a man who was staring into the abyss of hell. Ellison's cop instincts told him that the sooner he got to the bottom of this, the better he would feel. He was wrong. 

After a few seconds that seemed an eternity, Blair had not only regained control of his breathing, but had managed to paste a perfunctory half-smile on his otherwise strained-looking face. It wasn't enough to convince a sentinel, but most of the others didn't notice anything amiss. The only exception to that was the cause of Blair's discomfiture -- Russ Talbot. Sandburg stared him down, but Talbot only smiled like a lion, swatting the flies away with his tail -- thoroughly unaffected by the younger man's visual assault. 

The meeting proceeded without incident. Plans for safeguarding the candidate were outlined, and officers were stationed at the doors to the penthouse. Arrangements were made for Jim and Blair to accompany Talbot to a black-tie fund raising dinner the following evening in the ballroom of the hotel. During the entire discussion, Blair was uncharacteristically silent and stoic. No one mentioned it, but Simon did throw a questioning glance at both him and Ellison before deciding it must be a personal matter. 

As soon as the planning session ended, Blair excused himself and practically bolted from the room, citing a forgotten office appointment with a student as his reason. Jim offered the keys to the truck, but Sandburg declined in favor of a cab, knowing he was in no condition, emotionally, to drive. After his departure, a perplexed Jim and oblivious Simon sat down for a few minutes of expected socializing with their new charge. Unlike the two police officers, Russ Talbot knew exactly why their young friend had evaporated, and it gave him a perverse pleasure to know his presence still had such an overpowering effect on Naomi's little boy. 

* * *

Jim smelled the lasagna cooking almost before he entered the building. He chuckled as he realized how well Blair knew him. This was one of the sentinel's favorite dishes, and Blair cooked it expertly. The kid usually saved such delicacies for times when he owed Ellison an apology or when they needed to have a heart-to-heart. The big detective felt the latter was on tap tonight and was secretly glad that he wouldn't have to pry the information he wanted from his young partner. He remembered fondly the few times the younger man had opened up to him, and he found himself craving the closeness that the sharing of emotions prompted. Jim needed to be close to his guide in any way he could. 

"Oh, God," Blair thought, as he heard Jim's key turn in the lock. The young anthropologist knew he'd be expected to give an explanation for the business in the hotel that afternoon. Jim had obviously noted the physical reaction Blair had upon seeing Talbot, and the detective would want to know what was behind it. Blair only hoped fervently that the smell of lasagna wafting down the stairs had distracted his massive partner a little. The one thing Sandburg did not want to discuss right now was his past association with that man. 

"Hey, Chief. Smells good in here," chirped the detective as he placed his jacket on the coat hook and the keys in the basket. Jim stood still for a moment and breathed deeply through his nostrils. When he exhaled, a contented smile slowly crept across his face, relaxing his features and making him look a bit like the Cheshire cat. Then, he slowly strode over and eased his large frame onto the couch. 

"Well, at least he didn't come in the door asking questions. This may actually work," Sandburg reasoned as he started out of the kitchen to plop down on the couch next to Jim. The sentinel watched as his guide pulled a throw-pillow into his lap and started playing with the corners, nervously. He continued to stare silently as the young man obviously worked up the courage to say whatever he needed to share. 

Blair knew Jim was watching him, waiting for him to speak. Suddenly, he found himself listening in near-horror as he heard a burst of inane chatter issue forth from his own lips, unbidden. "Well, Jim, the lasagna will be ready in about twenty minutes. I used your favorite cheeses. The salad is made and in the fridge, except for the dressing, which is made, but not mixed in, yet. Oh, it's homemade, by the way; I found this great recipe with just the right combination of spices that should really be a nice treat for those sentinel taste buds of yours. I'll put the garlic bread in the oven in about ten minutes, and we should...." He cut off his own mad ramblings when he caught a glance of his oh-so-patient sentinel just looking at him, calmly, as though he had all the time in the world to listen to the crazed dinner ravings of a lunatic anthropology student in the throes of a desperate delaying tactic. 

Jim's eyes met those of his partner as he smiled warmly at his young friend, and the smile did warm Blair. Suddenly, he felt he had the strength and the will to tell this man everything he had been holding back for years. Jim had seen how traumatized he was, and was waiting now to offer comfort. The young man knew he was going to tell his friend all about his ordeal. Blair ran a hand through his curls, and then wiped the palm of that hand nervously on his jeans before clenching it into a fist on his knee. "Jim, I need to talk to you -- to tell you about what happened today, and what happened a long time ago," he sighed deeply and continued, unabated. "Russ Talbot was one of Naomi's boyfriends. They lived together for about eight months when I was ten years old. I gotta go check the lasagna -- smells like it's burning." With that, Blair shot off the couch and into the kitchen, where he immediately gulped in a breath of cheese-flavored air, and tried to squeeze his eyes shut against the tears that threatened to spill out onto his flushed cheeks. 

He knew the food wasn't burning, it still had ten minutes to cook, but he had to get himself pulled together. As he was standing, backed up to the sink trying to do just that, he felt two very strong hands come to rest on his shoulders. "Did he hurt you?" Jim's voice sounded like the man had swallowed a box of rusty nails, and when Blair looked up at his face, it seemed carved from granite, the eyes made of blue-tinged crystalline shards that reflected light, but possessed no internal warmth of their own. 

"Please, I..." was all Blair could manage before the dam burst. He choked on the sobs as tears streamed, unchecked, down a face that was a mask of turmoil. Jim Ellison wanted to kill someone. He didn't know what the man had done, but Russ Talbot had to die. Anyone who hurt his Blair like this didn't deserve to live, and he was damned if he was going to help protect this man from an assassin. Jim reached over and turned off the oven before enveloping his guide in his arms and walking the young man back to the couch in the living room. Blair and Jim sat down together, the younger man still locked in the gentle embrace of his sentinel. 

They sat next to each other on the couch for what seemed like hours. Jim had both arms wrapped around his young roommate, who had pulled a pillow to his chest and was hugging it fiercely. At some point, Blair had decided to test the bounds of this new intimacy by burying his tear-soaked face against the collar of his sentinel's shirt. That went over well enough. Jim didn't snatch his arms away and run screaming from the room to grab a carving knife. He didn't even growl a threatening warning. In fact, if anything, he seemed to tighten his hold on his young partner. When the sentinel reached up with his hand and began to tenderly stroke his guide's long, curly locks, it took all of Blair's self-control to keep from crawling into Jim's lap and throwing his arms around those massive shoulders. Since that could mean instant death, the young man decided to just content himself with nuzzling his sentinel's neck, while the big man's hands gingerly toyed with the soft tendrils of his guide's hair. 

Blair's tears had long since subsided when Jim made his inquiry. Ellison hated to break the companionable, even intimate, silence between them, but the Blessed Protector in him had to know what this man had done to his young friend. With a voice full of infinite gentleness, belied by a face that seemed to define machismo gruffness, Jim asked, "Are you ready to talk about it?" The sentinel heard a deep sigh and felt the breath from it tickle his neck. He tried to ignore the sensation that act caused. He didn't want to pull away from Blair while the younger man needed his strength, but feeling him so close was sending all of his senses reeling out of control. Luckily, Blair saved him from having to make a move by shifting his position so that the two men were no longer maintaining physical contact. 

"First, I just want to say thank you," Blair began, solemnly. When Jim nodded, the younger man continued. "While Mom and I were living with Russ, he -- " Sandburg paused and gathered his strength for the next part, ". . . he molested me." The last two words were spoken in a whisper only a sentinel could hear, and hear it he did. "It started out so innocently; I thought he just wanted to spend time with me. Sometimes Naomi's lovers made me feel like such a third wheel, I felt almost honored whenever one of them paid extra attention to me. Russ really made me feel important. Looking back, I realize I let him get away with much more than I should have because he treated me like I was special." The young man's voice broke on the last word, and Jim, who had felt compelled to silence until now, spoke with complete conviction the words he thought his Guide needed to hear. 

"You _are_ special, Chief. You always were. For the record, Sandburg, you didn't _let_ him get away with anything. He manipulated and used a beautiful, trusting child for his own deviant sexual gratification, but you had no control over that. It was never your fault, Blair. He's the guilty party here. You shouldn't bear any of his shame. He hurt you. I'm going to kill him for that, but you are blameless. Do you understand me?" 

Jim didn't realize how loud he had gotten, or that he had actually voiced his intention to kill Talbot until Blair commented on both. "Jim, man, turn down the volume, okay. I get the point; I shouldn't feel guilty about it. Oh, and I really appreciate your willingness to slay the dragon for me, Big Guy, but I'd hate to have to get myself thrown in prison just so I could continue to be your guide. Besides, there's no way to tell whether or not they'd let us share a cell." Sandburg's grin was infectious, and served to lighten the mood in the room, considerably. For his part, Blair had come to the conclusion that he could not confide the details of his experience to his partner. The detective's violent reaction to the mere mention of the molestation issue told Sandburg that his roommate wouldn't be able to restrain himself from committing homicide if he were told the full extent of the damage done by the man/monster now running for governor. So, he told Jim he really wasn't up to discussing details, and they moved on to talk about how this would affect the job. 

* * *

Cyn was standing in her office next to a filing cabinet when Blair knocked on her door. He heard a banging noise, and went in without invitation. What he saw made him stifle a giggle. The 5'8" redhead with long legs and short skirt was beating the side of her filing cabinet with her fist. "Open, damn you!" she screamed, to no avail, at the errant office storage device. Then her head snapped around at the sound of laughter from the doorway. She smiled at Blair's obvious amusement at her situation. "Well, Professor Sandburg, are you going to just stand there laughing, or be gallant and try to help?" she challenged, with a wide grin that belied her formal tone. 

"I'll do my best," he replied charmingly. "Far be it from me to ignore the plight of a lady in distress." Blair walked over to the rectangular storage compartment and tried the drawer she had been attempting to force. It opened immediately as he pulled on the handle, causing an obviously annoyed gasp from its owner, whose ordinarily pale complexion was now in jeopardy of becoming the color of her flaming tresses. 

"I choose to believe that you have come here for pleasant conversation, and not to demonstrate to me the certainty that even inanimate objects are now out to make my life miserable," Cyn huffed as she playfully shoved Blair aside, and reached into the open drawer for a much-needed file. 

"Actually, I came for a little advice from my friendly neighborhood therapist-in-training," he sighed, all humor now absent from his voice as unpleasant images raced through his mind. He had told Jim what had happened, but they hadn't really discussed any ramifications the long-held secrets would have on their relationship or Jim's present assignment, save one. Blair had made the detective promise not to beg off the protection duty. Sandburg didn't want Jim to have to explain to Simon why he could no longer protect Talbot. Blair also didn't want to give Russ Talbot the satisfaction of knowing how lasting and far-reaching the effect of his abuse had been. When Blair had left the meeting early, he'd done so because he couldn't face the idea of having a conversation with his old tormentor. He'd known Talbot was in town -- he was a gubernatorial front-runner, and his whereabouts made news. Blair just hadn't expected to have any contact with the man. If only Jim had been able to tell him in advance, he could have been prepared and not run like a jackass. 

"Blair!" Cyn's increased volume finally jerked him out of his private contemplation. When she realized she finally had his attention, she continued. "Sorry to shout, Hon, but you were a million miles away, and wouldn't respond to my normal tone. I thought I was going to have to shake you for a minute there." She grinned, mischievously, and continued, "Next time you space out like that, I'm gonna bring you out of it by crawling into your lap and biting your ear." Her ploy had worked; she had succeeded in lightening the mood and making Blair snicker a little. "I take it whatever you were thinking about is the cause of this impromptu therapy session," she intoned, with a lilt at the end of her sentence, signifying she expected an answer from her curly-haired companion. 

"Yeah," he replied, as he made his way to the over-stuffed chair she had placed in her too-cramped office in lieu of a couch. "You know me -- once I get something stuck in my head, I'm like a dog with a bone. I just can't stop chewing on this, so I thought I'd come see you, since you already know most of the story." 

"I already know it?" she wondered aloud. "Blair, I'm completely lost here. What do I know?" 

He looked at her pointedly as he clarified the whole perplexing conversation with two words. "Russ Talbot." She inhaled sharply, then sighed as she returned her attention to Blair's stony gaze. She felt a pang at the expression in his eyes. The beautiful azure orbs that usually danced with a light emanating from the sweet soul behind them were now as still and lifeless as those of a corpse. The thought that the mere mention of the man's name could strip those eyes of their inherent warmth and wonder made her hate him all the more. Yes, she definitely knew Russ Talbot. 

* * *

Blair and Cyn had been inseparable as children. She was an orphan living with a great aunt who was firmly ensconced in the Victorian era. The situation tended to make her a bit rebellious, and earned her the sympathy of one Naomi Sandburg. Naomi had fallen in love with the little girl's spirit the day they had met, and was thrilled that her little Blair was equally enthralled. The two children got along like brother and sister, and were rarely seen separately the entire summer before school began in Seattle. 

The two ten-year-olds quickly gained a reputation in the neighborhood as little work-a-holics. They had started a business, wherein they would hire themselves out for household chores and small odd jobs. Then they would pool their resources and head for the movies or the mall. They both had a taste for chemistry sets and books about adventure and intrigue. The neighbors all liked having the little duo working for them. The team was always punctual and hard-working to a fault. Sometimes their enthusiasm even earned them an extra bonus of cookies or brownies. Naomi was always trying to instill healthy eating habits in her son, but the occasional treat he earned never went unconsumed, despite her fine example. 

After Naomi moved in with Russ Talbot, and school started for Cyn and Blair, the children's time together was curtailed slightly, but they still maintained a close camaraderie. Even when Russ started trying to monopolize Blair's time, the boy still made room in his life for his best friend. 

Russ had been unselfish with his affection toward Blair from the moment he met the bright-eyed boy Naomi had referred to as her "baby." He had taken Blair to every sporting event in which the child had expressed even the slightest degree of interest. He had also escorted his new lover's son to the theater, symphony, countless museum exhibits, and a plethora of cultural expositions held nearby, designed to acquaint the locals with the Native American heritage of the Pacific Northwest. The child had an insatiable curiosity about nearly everything, and viewed the world through a veneer of wide-eyed innocence that belied a razor-sharp intellect and sense of discernment that found its roots in a short lifetime of careful observations. This boy was always paying attention. Unfortunately, nothing had prepared him to recognize the danger the seemingly innocuous and solicitous Russ Talbot represented. 

He worked insidiously, taking months to bring his game to fruition, slowly gaining the trust of mother and son. Naomi thought he was charming and committed to her and her son. Blair thought he hung the moon. Then everything started to change. Blair overlooked the too familiar touches in deference to his new father-figure, just as Russ knew the boy would. It made Blair uncomfortable, but Russ seemed like such a good man. The boy felt surely he was misinterpreting the older man's actions. When Russ finally played the final piece in his game, Blair was so confused and emotionally off-balance he was putty in Talbot's hands. All Russ had to do was add one final touch to top it all off. After he had finally completed his ritual and taken Blair that first time, he had gazed happily into the frightened and pain-filled eyes of this child who had trusted him so completely, and threatened to murder Naomi if Blair ever said anything to her. 

Blair lived in his personal version of Hell for three months before he was rescued by the hand of fate and the love of a friend. His grades began to suffer, and he all but ignored Cyn when she tried to talk to him. He felt as if he were covered in filth -- the kind of reeking sludge that couldn't be eradicated by the application of soap and hot water. This dirt was in his soul and was continuously seeping out through his pores. Blair thought it had started accumulating the first time Talbot had ever touched him, and began oozing out after the man had first raped him. He just couldn't bear to expose Cyn to that darkness, and he was afraid that somehow she would know why it was there. 

Cyn was a determined girl. She knew something was drastically wrong, and she wasn't in the habit of deserting her friends. That was how it started. She began sneaking around, following Blair to see if she could find out what was going on. One day she was spying on him when Russ came out to the shed behind the house. She and Blair had set up a make-shift chemistry lab out there to conduct their experiments. What she saw sent her mind reeling. She wasn't sure exactly what was happening, but she saw that it was hurting Blair, and that was all she needed. She ran to the office where Naomi was working. It was the office of a lawyer who took a lot of pro bono cases on behalf of environmentalists. The pay wasn't much, but Naomi liked the attorney, and appreciated his willingness to donate his time and efforts for a good cause. 

Naomi had left the office in a mad dash for her house as soon as she had grasped what Cyn was trying to tell her. She didn't want to believe it of Russ, but she knew Cyn was not prone to falsehoods. Besides, the child was clearly shaken by what she'd seen, and was describing, in vivid detail, sex acts she shouldn't have had the opportunity to glimpse any other way. Of course, by the time she arrived home, Russ was reading a newspaper in the living room, and Blair had retreated to the seclusion of his own bedroom. Without even pausing to look at Russ, Naomi flew to her son's room, intent on getting her questions answered. 

Once his mother started asking questions, the floodgates opened, and Blair poured out the details of his abuse as she held him tight. When he was finished, she immediately took her son to Cyn's house, and returned to pack their belongings. Fortunately, Russ was no longer home when she arrived, and didn't return before she left again to join her child. 

After a long talk with Blair, during which he adamantly insisted he did not want to have to tell anyone else what had happened to him, Naomi decided they should move to another town. Blair became hysterical and physically ill at any mention of going to the police and recounting his story, and Naomi felt love and therapy were a better course of action than trying to deal with "pigs," anyway. No charges were ever filed, and they never contacted Russ Talbot again. 

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this, Chief?" Jim's concerned voice penetrated the closed French doors to Blair's bedroom. 

"Jim, I'm sure I don't want to let him win." Blair used a normal volume, knowing the sentinel could hear him, even from the kitchen. "If I stay away, and avoid my responsibilities because of this, he'll know he still gets to me. He had enough of a victory with my reaction yesterday in his hotel suite; he's not getting anything more from me. I'm stronger than he thinks I am." 

"You're stronger than _most_ people think you are. It's one of the things I admire most about you." Jim was leaning against the French doors now, speaking quietly and seriously to his friend on the other side of them. 

He moved just before Blair exited the room and was taken aback by the vision before him. Blair was dressed in a classic style tuxedo, much like his own, only minus the vest. Instead of black tie and cummerbund, though, the young man had chosen a midnight blue that made his eyes flash with their own vibrant blue tint. The man was stunning. It took a moment to realize Blair was speaking. 

"...mean that?" 

"Pardon?" Jim shook his head slightly. 

"I asked if you really meant what you said just now - about admiring my strength." 

"Of course. Most people who see you only see your height. They think short means weak. You've never been that. Physically, you're more than a match for anybody your size, and probably a little bigger. Working out with me has given you some pretty good muscles." Jim grinned and playfully reached out to squeeze one of his friend's biceps. Blair smiled back and nodded his assent. "Hell, anybody you can't out-fight you just out-think. But beyond that, you have a strength of character and spirit that I don't think anyone could break. Few people take the time to notice that, but I can't help it. I depend on it to get me through the tough times. You may need my strength when it comes to a fight, but I need yours when it comes to living. You don't even know how much I depend on you, do you? You don't realize how much support you give me just by being who you are. The truth is, Blair, without you, there is no me." He cleared his throat and looked at Blair's incredulous face. He'd finally found a way to make Sandburg speechless. Good thing to remember. "Let's go show this guy who's boss, shall we." 

Blair followed his partner to the car, wondering where the pod people had hidden the real Jim, _and_ wondering if he wanted him back. The sensitive, affectionate Jim who was with him tonight would be a real help in getting through that stupid dinner that they had to attend in the ballroom of Talbot's hotel. He didn't want to go, but Jim had the duty of guarding the candidate during the fund-raiser, and Blair wasn't shirking his responsibilities because of his discomfort. 

* * *

The fund-raiser turned out better than anyone could have expected or hoped. Right in the middle of the festivities, the would-be assassin made another attempt on Talbot's life. In truly heroic fashion, Jim tackled the man before a shot could be fired, and the Cascade PD led the screaming lunatic away in cuffs. For the rest of the evening, all anyone could talk about was "that brave, handsome detective." 

Jim had noticed the smell of gun oil on the man as he came into the ballroom, and he kept close tabs on him because he was dressed as a waiter, and none of the waiters should have been carrying guns. When he heard the man's heart rate increase dramatically, Jim primed himself for swift action. Then, as he saw the man reach into his jacket for the gun, the detective pounced, taking him down and averting the assassination of a man he'd just as soon have helped kill. 

Now the mayor was happy; the chief was happy; Russ Talbot was _very_ happy. The only person who wasn't happy was Jim. Even Blair was radiating pride and joy. Jim's heart was warmed by the fact that, even though Blair was undoubtedly the last person to want Talbot's life saved, he was utterly overjoyed that Jim had been the one to do it because it meant great publicity and a career boost for the detective. He'd have to make it a point to tell Blair that his selflessness was another one of those traits he admired in the kid. For now, he'd just bask in the glow of Sandburg's pleased expression. 

Unfortunately, he was torn away from that angelic face too soon. The press had been covering the festivities, and now they were circling like vultures, looking for a window of opportunity to descend upon him and devour his carcass. The mayor called Jim over for a photo op as soon as Talbot had finished delivering his official thanks to the detective on camera. Shaking that man's hand, knowing what he had done to Blair, was the most disgusting thing the sentinel had ever had to do. In fact, he bore a somber expression in all the pictures because he simply couldn't shake Talbot's hand and smile at the same time. Soon, though, Russ moved away, and the onslaught of other public officials, wanting to be seen with the hero of the day, moved forward. 

When he finally broke free of the publicity hounds, he was struck by an overpowering realization - Blair was no longer in the ballroom. As he looked around, he noticed someone else was also missing - Russ Talbot. As he extended his hearing, Jim was mildly amused by the irony of the situation. The man who had just been universally touted a hero for saving the candidate's life was about to kill said candidate with his bare hands if the slimy bastard had so much as touched Blair. As soon as he heard his guide's voice, coming from an alcove around the corner and down the hall from the ballroom, he was off and running, literally. 

Jim could hear the sound of Talbot laughing quietly as Blair struggled against the man's hold. "You know, my interests are usually geared to much younger partners, but you could be the exception, Blair. You still very greatly resemble the boy you were then. I remember how wonderful you felt to me." 

"You let go of me, you sonofabitch! I swear to you, I'll talk to the police, and you can kiss your political career good-bye!" Blair was still struggling against the hold of the larger man. Talbot was slightly larger than Jim, but without anywhere near the musculature. Still, he was big enough and strong enough to hold his prey where he wanted. 

The alcove they were in was curtained off, but Jim knew they were behind the veil. He ran for the curtain and thrust it aside like a madman, shoving Talbot away from Blair while inserting his own body between the two men. Then the sentinel attacked his adversary with his fists until members of the Major Crime unit assigned to the party, who had followed Jim when they saw him running, pulled him off the stunned politician. 

"Captain Banks, what the hell kind of department are you running?" Russ shouted angrily. "I want to press charges!" he exclaimed, as the captain helped him up off the floor. 

"So do I," Blair said quietly, looking pointedly at Talbot. At Simon's puzzled gaze, he continued. "I'd like to press charges for an assault that happened just now, and one that happened a long time ago." 

With a resigned look at Blair, Talbot drew himself up to his full height and said, "Gentlemen, I'd like a moment alone to discuss something with Mr. Sandburg." 

"I thought you might," Blair replied evenly. "Excuse us, guys. We'll be right back." The two men walked away from the confused stares of all the officers present. It took Taggart, Rafe, Brown, and the captain to keep Jim from plowing after them. The man was actually snarling with rage. It wasn't until Blair returned that he even remotely calmed. But he still showed his ferocity in his eyes and expression as Talbot trailed behind the anthropologist. 

"Captain Banks, while I am not going to press charges against your officer, I do want him off my protective detail. Since there is no longer any real threat, his services are hardly necessary. The other men you have assigned to me will be more than sufficient." As he started to turn away, Blair audibly cleared his throat. Talbot turned back to face Simon. "I'd also like to get your assurance that this incident will not go into Detective Ellison's personnel file, and will not adversely affect any performance reviews he might have. Let's just call it a misunderstanding, and leave it at that." 

Simon was dumbfounded. He was determined to get to the bottom of this little fiasco later on; but for now, he only wanted to get the pair away from this man before the detective finished the job he'd started. Jim was looking like he could still tear the man's heart out without much effort or provocation. "Fine. I'll take him off the detail, and I'll make a decision about the rest later, taking your request into consideration, of course." 

"Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to my room. It's been an... _eventful_ evening." With that, he turned toward the elevator. Rafe broke away from his place holding Ellison to join him, still on duty, and needing to see the candidate safely to his suite, where his own security people were waiting to take charge of him. 

Blair turned after Talbot disappeared into the elevator car. When he saw Jim's face still seething with anger, staring at the spot where Talbot had last stood, he knew he had to do something. He reached out to Jim and touched the sentinel's chest with his palm. Jim became noticeably calmer. His appearance softened, and Brown and Taggart released their hold on him. "Thanks, Jim. I appreciate the rescue. Are you gonna be okay?" 

"Yeah," he said tightly, still fuming over what could have happened to his precious guide. He reached out to squeeze Blair's shoulder, but the younger man flinched when he made contact. "What is it?" 

"Just a bruise or two. Talbot had me in quite a grip back there." He smiled reassuringly, but Jim would have no part of it. 

"That man needs to be shot down like the rabid dog he is!" 

"Jim, take it easy. It's done. Whatever happened here, it's over." Simon was physically pushing Jim toward the doors of the ballroom. "I _will_ want a full story about exactly what did happen, but that can wait. The important thing is that it's finished, like it never happened." 

"No, Simon. It's not like it never happened. Some wounds go away and leave no trace; others leave scars. That man leaves scars on the souls of everyone he touches. Because of that, it'll never be truly over as long as he stays alive." Blair's words were like cold water in Simon's face. Whatever this was about, it wasn't simple, and it had hurt the young man deeply, which had, of course, spurred Jim's protective instincts. 

* * *

"Ellison," Jim answered the phone, his voice groggy. "What time is it, Sir? Three a.m." He paused to listen, and what he heard brought him completely awake and alert. "What?! How?" Another pause, as he arose and began down the stairs to wake his roommate. "All right, Simon. We'll be there as soon as we can get showered and dressed. Bye." 

"Sandburg," he called out quietly as he entered the younger man's room. 

"Yeah, Jim, I heard the phone. We got a case or somethin'?" came the sleepy reply, followed by a yawn. 

"We definitely got an 'or something,' Chief. Russ Talbot's been murdered." 

"What?! How?" 

He chuckled. "My sentiments exactly. He was stabbed to death in his hotel suite. His wife just found the body. We've got to go in to the station as soon as we can get ready." 

"Shouldn't we be going to the suite. You'll need to go over the crime scene while it's still fresh." He was talking as he threw the covers off and got out of bed, going over to his drawers and pulling out clean clothes to put on after his shower. 

"We're not on the investigating team, Sandburg. We're going in to give statements about the fight earlier, and about our whereabouts since then." He looked pointedly at his friend. "We're suspects, Chief." 

"Oh, shit!" 

"Yep. I get the shower first." 

"Jim." 

"What is it, Sandburg? We need to hurry." 

"I just wanted you to know, in case you started to wonder, I didn't do it." Blair's wide-eyed stare, begging Jim to believe him, spoke more to the detective's heart than a thousand denials could have. He melted and decided they could spare the extra few minutes to set his friend's mind at ease. 

Jim stepped toward Blair and put his hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "I know you didn't, Buddy. I would _never_ have thought you were guilty. I don't believe Simon does either, but he has to go by the book on this, and both of us had altercations with the man earlier. Hell, I make a much better suspect than you. I actually hit the bastard. I didn't kill him, though, in case you were wondering." He grinned, hoping to downplay the seriousness of their situation. 

When they got to the station, Rafe and Brown were waiting to take their statements. Jim was grateful that they seemed to understand how humiliating it was for him and Sandburg to be on the opposite side of the interrogation table. The two detectives were polite and understanding, even occasionally crossing over to humorous to help put Blair at ease. Except for a few uncomfortable -- but necessary -- questions, they made the anthropologist's session seem more like a conversation with friends than a statement from a suspect. 

Blair had been skittish about discussing the reason for his bad blood with Talbot, but he finally decided that it would be useless and counterproductive to hide it any longer. He knew he had good friends here who would be understanding and non-judgmental about it. He also knew he had Jim's support, and that made it worth doing. 

Jim's statement was calm, cool, and professional. He didn't lose his temper, but gave all his answers in a completely unemotional monotone. He knew Blair had elected to talk about his experiences with Talbot because he had listened in during the young observer's interrogation. Jim was also aware of how gentle Rafe and Brown had been with Blair during his interview. For that reason, he was determined not to become angry with them during the questioning, no matter how annoying some of the inquiries were. 

* * *

"Jim, I'm getting a lot of pressure to make an arrest," Simon confided. The captain had called his best detective into his office a few hours after Jim and Blair had given their statements. Blair had decided to take the day off from his university duties to be with his friend at the station. He was surreptitiously watching Jim and Simon from his desk in the bullpen. 

"I don't know what to say, Sir. You could let me go over the scene...." 

Simon interrupted, "Hell, Man, I wish I could, but the Chief and the Mayor are both wondering if you should be considered a prime suspect after what happened last night. Apparently, your little scuffle with Talbot was witnessed by the Mayor's wife, who informed her husband after the body was discovered." He was gnawing on an unfortunate, unlit cigar between his teeth. A look of consternation was firmly set on his features. 

Jim nodded and gazed tiredly at his boss. "Believe me, I wish it hadn't gone down the way it did. If he had just left Blair alone," he trailed off. 

Simon's expression immediately softened. "I know, Jim. If someone had pulled a stunt like that with Joan while we were still married, I would have had the same reaction." 

"We're not married, Sir." 

"I know you're not, but the feelings are still the same. Don't look at me like that, James Ellison. Anyone with half a brain could figure out how you feel about that kid. I don't understand why Sandburg doesn't realize it. But, then, you don't seem to realize he feels the same way about you, so I don't know why I'm surprised." 

Jim sat in stunned silence for a moment, then answered, "Simon, you're wrong about this. Blair's straight. Trust me, if I thought for one moment that he could ever be interested in me, nothing could stop me from telling him how I feel. There's just no way." 

Banks sighed deeply. "Give it a try sometime, Jim. I think he'd surprise you. Dismissed." 

Jim rose and walked to the door. "Thank you, Sir, but I don't think so." He opened the door and walked out to rejoin his partner. 

Simon's eyes followed him out and settled on the two men together. "Clueless," he muttered, and shook his head. 

* * *

A few hours later, Jim and Blair stepped off the elevator, and Jim immediately knew something was wrong. Simon, Rafe and Brown were all gathered in the doorway to Major Crimes as if waiting for someone. He knew there was about to be trouble. 

Simon was the first to move. Clearing his throat, he moved past Ellison and began to speak to Blair. "I have to do this by the book, Son. We'll talk about it some more after the paperwork is taken care of." With that he began reading one very stunned anthropologist his rights. 

"What the hell is going on?!" Jim raged, but Rafe and Brown stepped in and held him, after one nod of Simon's head in their direction signaled he was ready for their assistance. 

"Take it easy, Jim," Rafe replied in his most calming voice. "Nobody's gonna hurt Blair; you know that. But the Captain's right. We have to go by the book with this, just to make sure nobody can say anything when we get the proof that he's innocent and let him go later." He was rubbing Ellison's shoulder soothingly, but to no avail. The man was still tense as granite. 

"I can't believe this! Why is he being arrested at all?" Trust in his friends was warring with a need to protect and defend his guide. His face was a mask of undisguised fear and fury. 

Brown gave a dubious look toward Rafe, wondering if it was safe to even start telling their fellow detective about what had happened. He decided to forge ahead and hope for the best. "There was some evidence found at the scene. It was on the floor near the body. Looks like the victim must have grabbed it during the attack." He cleared his throat, looked into Ellison's eyes, then began a visual inventory of the floor under his feet. 

Rafe continued for him. "It was Blair's watch, Jim -- the pocket watch you gave him last Christmas. It was monogrammed, remember?" Jim nodded, speechless. 

Henri found his voice again. "Look, Man, we know there's a reasonable explanation for this. None of us believe Hairboy did this guy, but the chief and the mayor have been pushing for updates on every little thing we've found. When we gave them the report on finding the watch, they started makin' big noises about bringing the kid in and charging him." He shook his head, wondering why the bureaucracy had to pick the most inopportune times to rear its ugly head. "We're gonna get to the truth, Man. He won't be in here that long, and Simon's gonna see to it he gets a private cell, so nobody'll bother him." 

"Yeah, take it easy, Jim," Rafe began. "He's like a little brother around here, you know. None of us want to see anything happen to him." Jim knew they were trying to help, but his only concern was for his guide. He tuned the two men out and focused his hearing elsewhere to find out how Blair was doing. 

* * *

After Simon finished reading Blair his rights, the two of them went down to booking, where Simon also fingerprinted him and stood by while he had his picture taken and signed the necessary documents. That wasn't usually a captain's responsibility, and some of the uniforms were shocked that he was doing it, but he knew Blair needed a friendly face around for the demoralizing routine of being booked. 

Then came the truly awful part. Blair knew what to expect, and he was determined not to let the captain know how terrified he was on the way to the holding cells. He held his head high and walked with a confidence he didn't come close to feeling. 

Simon decided that now would be a good time to let the younger man know what was going on because the distraction might help. However, he had to establish one fact right up front. "Blair, you know I don't believe you did this." He looked at the grad student expectantly. 

Blair gazed up at him with a faint smile. "No, I didn't know. I was worried about that. Thanks for telling me." 

"Well, I just wanted to make sure we had that straight. Now, if you'd like, I'll fill you in on what we've got so far, and why you're being put through all this." He heaved a great sigh, and noted that Blair was nodding in agreement. He then explained about the evidence that had been found and the political pressure that had been brought to bear. By that time, they had reached the holding cells, and Blair had to empty the contents of his pockets so the officer in charge could put his things in an envelope and file it to be returned upon release. Then the observer was escorted to a cell set apart from the others, with Simon following closely behind to make sure the accommodations were as he had requested-as far from the other occupied cells as was possible. He knew this was temporary, and he didn't want the young man hurt. 

"So do you have any idea at all how that watch got in his possession?" Simon asked, once Blair was situated in his temporary abode. 

"Honestly, Simon, the only times I've seen that man since I was ten years old were in his campaign spots on TV, in the meeting at his hotel suite, and that night at the fundraiser." 

"Did you have the watch that night? Maybe he grabbed it while you were struggling with him in the alcove." Simon was pacing the cell and chewing his cigar as though it were bubble gum, while Sandburg, being atypically still, was sitting on the cot with his legs in the lotus position. 

"No, no, I didn't have it with me that night. I wanted to wear it, but...oh, my God, Simon!" Blair unfolded his limbs and leapt off the cot. He immediately started gesturing wildly with his hands. "I've got it! I didn't wear it because I had lost it earlier. I remember being really upset at the time, but not mentioning it to Jim because I didn't want him to know I couldn't find his gift. Oh, damn! If I'd just told him I lost it, this wouldn't be happening. Shit! It must have fallen out in the hotel room while we were having our meeting with Talbot. He probably found it afterwards and intended to make me come and get it or something. That's his style." 

"What if he wasn't the one who found it?" Both men turned in the cell to look at the man who had spoken. Jim had excused himself from Rafe and Brown a few minutes earlier and made his way down to the holding area. He had listened in on the conversation the entire time, and was now standing just outside the bars, advancing an idea that could clear the man he loved. 

"Jim!" Blair stepped quickly over to the bars and reached out to his friend. Jim took the offered hand and, very uncharacteristically, held it to his chest. 

"Hey, Chief. You okay in here?" Jim asked, his voice seemed to indicate that if Blair were not happy, Jim would resort to knocking down the walls with his fists, if necessary, to get him out. 

Blair seemed to realize this. "Yeah, Man, just like staying at the Hilton." He grinned, trying to put his sentinel at ease. Then his tone turned serious. "Really, Jim, I'm okay. I trust you. I know you'll get me out of here." 

"Excuse me, Gentlemen, but did you say something about someone else finding the watch?" Simon knew Jim needed reassurance that his partner was safe, but they needed to solve this case and get Sandburg home even more. 

"Right, Sir, I was thinking that maybe someone else, like a maid or Mrs. Talbot, might have found it and gave it to Talbot to return. If that's true, then whoever found it would remember that, and it would explain away the most damning piece of evidence against Blair. He'd still be a suspect because of his previous history with Talbot, but that wouldn't be enough for an arrest." He turned his face away from Simon and back to Blair. "You could come home." Blair beamed at him. 

"All right, I'm going to get Rafe and Brown to start asking questions right now. They can start with the widow and move on from there. We'll find somebody who at least _saw_ that watch before the murder." 

* * *

Two hours later, Jim's cell phone chirped into action. "Ellison," he said, praying for good news from his superior. He had to speak softly because he'd managed to coax Blair into getting a little nap, and he didn't want to wake him until he had good news. So there he was, Jim Ellison, cop, sitting in a jail cell, on a cot, with Blair's head on a pillow in Jim's lap. He didn't understand how he and Sandburg always ended up in these situations, but he knew as long as they were in them together, everything would turn out all right in the end. 

"Take him home, Jim. I'm arranging for his release right now." Simon's voice on the line was the answer his prayers. 

"Thank you, Sir. You found someone?" 

"Yeah, they still haven't been able to get in to see the widow and get a statement, but they did find a maid who distinctly remembered finding that watch in the seat cushions of the couch. She said she remembered because when she gave it to Talbot, he started laughing, said something about having 'him,' meaning Sandburg, I assume, right where he wanted 'him,' then gave her a hundred dollar tip and told her she didn't have to finish cleaning." 

"What a sweet guy," Ellison sneered. "Well, at least Blair's off the hook." 

"Yes, but I'm back on it. I still don't have anyone in custody on this. I've told Rafe and Brown to camp out on the wife's doorstep until her doctor let's them in to see her. I keep hoping she knows something that can shed some light on why so many people seemed to want this man dead. Until then, though, take him home, and remember what I said to you in my office earlier. Tell him how you feel." 

"Thank you, Sir," Jim replied, noncommittally. 

* * *

Jim could smell dinner cooking in the wok as he finished his shower. He and Blair had stopped by the market to buy some fresh veggies and chicken breasts on the way home from the jail. Neither felt like eating anything heavy, so Blair decided to whip up a quick and light stir-fry while Jim got cleaned up. Jim had objected at first, saying Blair was in no condition to cook after his ordeal, but Blair said he needed to keep busy to take his mind off it. 

The meal was delicious, and both men enjoyed a companionable silence while they ate. It wasn't until the dishes were done, and they were sitting in front of a crackling fire, that Blair decided it was time to confide his thoughts and feelings. "You know, I have this nagging sensation that I should feel some remorse because he died. I know I wished him dead for years, and it seems like I should feel guilty now that he is, but I just can't feel anything other than satisfaction. I'm worried that makes me a terrible person, or something." He looked at Jim with eyes that begged for assurance. 

"Chief, Talbot was a cancer. Nobody feels sorry when cancer cells are destroyed by chemotherapy. They feel glad that the disease is no longer a threat to life and happiness. That's what you're going through. Just because this cancer took the form of a man doesn't make him any more deserving of your mourning than if he had been a tumor in someone's lung. He was evil, and now he's dead. I, for one, feel the world is better off." 

Blair nodded with an amused smile. "Gee, Jim, don't pull any punches next time. Speak your mind." Both men laughed good-naturedly. 

"I just can't help remembering the fear and pain Naomi and I went through. Because he had threatened to kill her if I talked, even after we'd left town, I still had terrible nightmares that he would find us and murder her while we slept. I just knew he was gonna kill her and take me away someplace where nobody would ever find me." 

"Oh, God," Jim looked horrified. "How did you ever deal with that?" 

Blair smiled, "Well, Mom was really into the idea that therapy would help, and it did. She went with me sometimes. She was determined to make sure I knew that it wasn't my fault, and that everything would be okay again. She was terrific. I could tell it really scared her, though. She wouldn't leave me alone with a man for a long time after that. I think she passed up the chance at several good relationships because she was afraid to let another man in her life for a couple of years. We did live with a few women during that time. I think Mom decided we were safer if she stuck with female lovers for a while. Women are more nurturing, and Naomi never cared much about the packaging of her lovers, just what was inside. I hope you're not shocked about the whole bisexuality thing." He looked expectantly at Jim. "Jim?" he said, nervously, after a few moments without comment. 

"Yeah, I'm sorry." After he heard Blair's question, he let his mind wander back to the conversation in Simon's office. If there was any chance Simon was right, he had to act. Sandburg had just given him the perfect opening; he just had to decide if he wanted to take it. He felt himself stepping forward on a leap of faith, hoping he didn't fall into a bottomless chasm. "No, I'm not shocked, Sandburg. In fact, I feel the same way. I've been with men before, myself. Actually, I prefer them to women." There it was, out in the open. Now, if he got the right reaction, he'd tell Blair the rest. There was no way he was going to risk telling Blair he loved him until he knew that confession would be well-received. 

Blair's eyes were like large, blue saucers. Jim almost laughed at the incredulity on the young man's face. "Jim, I, uh, I never would have expected that. Man, that old 'don't judge a book by its cover' thing really is true." 

"Well, I hope it doesn't bother you, living with me and all." Ellison was amazed at how calm his voice sounded, considering he was about as terrified as a person could get without fainting dead away. When Blair's shy, yet beatific, smile appeared, Jim's terror abated. 

"No, Man, how could you think that?" He paused a moment, daring himself to ask the question he most wanted answered. He couldn't ask if Jim was attracted to him; the possibility of rejection was too great. However, he could do the next best thing. "So," when his voice squeaked like an adolescent boy's on that word, Blair cleared his throat and tried again. "So, what kind of guy do you usually go for?" Blair hoped his question sounded nonchalant. It didn't. 

Jim had his senses turned up, hoping for any encouraging signs. When Blair asked about his taste in men, the young man's heart rate shot up and he seemed to be holding his breath. There was also an excited tremor in his voice and a priceless look of anticipation on his expressive countenance. The detective grinned, knowing he had all the information he needed. Damned if Simon hadn't been right all along. He'd have to find a way to get that man a box of his favorite stogies as a 'thank you' gift. 

"Well, I usually like men similar to myself," he replied, toying with his friend a little. "You know, tall, muscular, military or police types," he continued, planning on dragging this out a bit more. Then he saw Blair's face fall, and a look of such loss descended over the young man's beautiful features. Jim couldn't let him suffer like that. "But, lately, I seem to be drawn to adorable, short, brilliant, neo-hippie, scholar-types." When Blair's eyes snapped up to meet his, Jim reached out a hand to caress his cheek. "What do you make of that, Chief?" he asked, teasingly. 

Blair's eyes closed as he leaned his face into the warm touch of his friend's hand. "Mmm, I don't know. Maybe your taste is just improving with age." He opened his eyes and smiled mischievously at Jim. Then his expression turned serious. "Uh, Jim, I've never . . . well, except for Talbot, but I don't count that . . . I mean, I've never been with another man. I wanted to a couple of times, but I just never trusted anyone. It hurt a lot when Russ, you know, did what he did to me. I just didn't want to take the chance of dealing with that kind of pain again, and I was afraid of having flashbacks or something, too." 

Jim nodded his understanding and took Blair's hand in his own. "It's okay. I don't care about that. I'm willing to accept whatever you can give me in the sex department. I just want a relationship with you on any terms I can get. I love you, Blair, and if you can't handle doing certain things, I can deal with that. I'd never want you to feel like you had to do anything you didn't want. I'm not expecting anything from you. I'll just take whatever you can give, and I'll give you as much as you want in return." 

Blair flew into his arms and held him tight before pulling away to continue the conversation. "Jim, that is the most romantic and loving thing anyone has ever said to me. I love you, too, Man. When I said I hadn't trusted anyone enough before, I didn't mean the same feelings applied here. That's the whole point. I _do_ trust you enough. I'm not afraid of trying it with you because I know you'd never hurt me. Being with you makes me feel safe and loved in a way I never have with anyone else. I _want_ this, Jim." 

Jim smiled and sighed. He stood up and held a hand out for Blair. With their arms around each other, they mounted the stairs to _their_ bedroom. 

* * *

Jim awoke a few minutes before six a.m. to the feeling of a warm, soft weight along the length of his body on the left side. He tilted his head downward and looked at a mass of chestnut curls just below his chin. He grinned as the events of the night before flooded his memory and made him long for more of the same. He closed his eyes again, intent on remaining still and savoring the feeling of Blair, cuddled up against his side. However, the ringing of the phone laid waste to his perfect plan. 

"Ellison," he said sharply, annoyed at being shaken out of his golden moment. He felt Blair begin to stir. 

"Jim, sorry to wake you, but I thought you'd like to know you and the kid have been cleared." Simon sounded like he hadn't had any sleep at all. 

"That's great news. How?" 

"Well, as you know, the wife was too hysterical to speak to Rafe and Brown yesterday morning, and her doctor kept her sedated all day. However, we finally got past the doctor to get her statement. Apparently, Talbot had been molesting her son, his stepson, and she hadn't known about it. The boy's only eleven years old. Anyway, that night . . ." 

"Mmm, what's goin' on, Jim?" Blair sleepily inquired, not awake enough to realize anyone on the other end of the phone would be able to hear him. 

"Um, Jim, was that Sandburg?" came Simon's query. 

"Yes, Sir," Jim replied, somewhat sheepishly. 

"Are you in bed?" Banks now had a significantly more amused tone. 

"Yes, Sir." Jim's own tone was now tinged with mirth. 

"I see," Simon chuckled. "Well, congratulations. Looks like you both finally figured things out." 

"Hmmm, yes, Sir, most definitely," Jim said, with a big grin. 

"Now, where was I? Oh, yes, apparently, that night, Talbot decided he wanted to take out his sexual frustrations on the child again. The boy grabbed a letter opener from the desk in the bedroom and threatened him with it. Well, that just made Talbot angry. He rushed the kid, tripped, and fell right on top of the child, with the letter opener going right into his chest. The mother heard the kid screaming and ran to help pull Talbot off him. At first, she decided to just pretend she had found him stabbed because she didn't want her son to have to answer all those questions or testify, but when Rafe and Brown questioned her, she just couldn't hold it in. According to forensics, the angle of entry data supports the story she gave us, and the boy corroborates it. So we're not even looking at murder here. Basically, it was an accident that came about from an attempt at self-defense." 

"Poor kid," Jim said. 

Blair was looking at him with questioning eyes. "Sorry, Simon, but my lover would like to know what's going on. By the way, I'm calling in sick today." He gave a very unconvincing cough. "As you can hear, I'm in no condition to work." 

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Just get your butt back in here tomorrow. Bye, Jim." 

"Bye." He hung up the phone and turned to Blair. "That was Simon calling to let us know we're in the clear. They found out what happened to Talbot." 

"What do you mean 'what happened?' I thought they already knew that. They were supposed to be looking for a who, not a what." 

Jim explained, watching Blair's face grow sad at the mention of what Talbot had done to the boy. When the tears started to fall, Jim held him close and murmured reassurances. Finally, Blair spoke. 

"You know, Jim, all I can hope for this kid is that he finds what I have. Last night, you made me feel complete in a way I've never imagined possible. You really are the one true love of my life, and you always will be." 

As Jim held his soul mate, he knew that he, too, had found his one true love and that nothing would ever tear them apart. 

End 

* * *

End Principles. 


End file.
